


Mosaic

by AraSigyrn



Series: Meant to Be [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Sequel, soulmate!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29221992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AraSigyrn/pseuds/AraSigyrn
Summary: Scenes from Freddie's side of the story.An exercise in unrepentant fluff to celebrate Brownie's first goal of the season!
Relationships: Frederik Andersen/Connor Brown
Series: Meant to Be [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2145537
Comments: 11
Kudos: 75





	Mosaic

Later, Freddie'll wonder how the fuck he missed it.

At the time, he's tired and the bitterness of the playoff loss and his ignominious departure from Anaheim still festers. He'd loved California and Toronto is about as far from California as the NHL could send him. His PR smile has left his face aching and he doesn't actually want to go down to the locker room. But Shanhanan suggests it and Freddie doesn't have an actual reason to say no.

Shananhan hasn't mentioned the cover strapped onto Freddie's wrist. Lou had made one joke about it that Freddie had very deliberately ignored. He tries to forget it's even there, same as always. He tries not to think about how it's full of colour now, radiant and beautiful. He doesn't even know when it changed, just that it must have been before the post-season. It looks more complete with the colour, less ghostly and Freddie hates it just as much as he always has.

There are a lot of players hanging around. Freddie knows some of them from the far side of the ice but there are a swarm of new players. He notices Brownie, mostly for the hair, but there is Willy who's bouncing and obnoxious and Mitch who talks like he's afraid he's going to run out of time. Brownie's quiet and Freddie doesn't know him well enough to know how strange that is. If he'd looked, he might have seen Hyms look over at Brownie. Freddie doesn't look. Freddie doesn't even notice the static sting when their hands meet.

He's too busy watching Bozak. He'd seen the other man look down at the black band around Freddie's wrist and Freddie's mood sours before the guy even opens his mouth. He doesn't mean to snap. Freddie forgets sometimes that he's big and he can be scary.

Freddie doesn't know, won't know for months, that he's not the only one who wears a cover for a reason on this team. Brownie's wearing his Under Armour and he's still wearing the cheap standard cover that doesn't show unless you're looking for it. Freddie isn't. He's not even trying to be mean. He's just not going to let this new team get fixated on the damn soulmark.

In California, there's nowhere you can go that people don't get starry-eyed over the 'romance' of a soulmark. Freddie's fucking sick of it. He's sick of being treated like the stupid mark on his wrist makes his love life public fucking property. He's not putting up with it in Toronto. Freddie's heard too much about how greedy the media gets with the Leafs.

He doesn't notice the way his stomach sinks on the way out. When he leaves the locker room with Shanahan right behind him, Freddie's eyes sting but he doesn't know why. He blames all the stupid emotions on being homesick for a team that didn't want him and doesn't think anything more of it. He doesn't sleep well that night. He's not going to sleep any better for weeks though he doesn't know that yet.

* * *

For as long as he can remember, Freddie's been fascinated by the twin patterns that wind around his mamma and pappa's wrists. His momma tells him stories about growing up and showing how the pattern grew with her. Freddie looks at his wrist, the small pattern drawn in the same faded blue as his veins that doesn't look like anything special at all yet.

Denmark, Freddie learns in school, has a reported soulmate rate of 7.9%. It's the lowest in Europe, 5.3% behind Ireland, which doesn't seem real. Freddie's parents are soulmates and their parents are soulmates and their parents were soulmates and so on back as far as the records go. There's an oil painting of Freddie's great-great-great-great-great grandmother that shows the green pattern winding around her wrist hanging in a gallery somewhere.

Freddie's soulmark is always there.

He doesn't think about it. It would be like thinking about having two feet. Freddie learns to skate and his soulmark disappears beneath the cover that all players play with. He technically doesn't need to wear one at peewee levels but Freddie wants to play when he grows up and that means that he has to wear one.

His mamma thinks it's cute. His pappa tells him that he's being very grown up.

Freddie is seven when he realizes that none of his friends have soulmarks.

* * *

Freddie probably shouldn't love the fact that Connor can't block him out without a real, _conscious_ effort as much as he does. 

Neither of them know why. According to some of the literature that Doctor Janet gives him, it might be because of the BRS. Connor never developed the automatic shielding while the bond developed because the bond wasn't reciprocated. He ignored it and now that the bond's open between them, Connor doesn't have much control over it. Freddie knows that the doc gave Connor the same studies but he doesn't think Connor's read them.

He selfishly hopes that Connor won't.

Connor gets self-conscious about the BRS and Freddie hates it. He hates that Connor had to go through it. He really hates that Connor won't even think about it unless someone pushes him because it was so awful. He won't even talk to Freddie about it. Freddie's fantasized about a time machine and punching himself in the face a few times. He doesn't like the way Connor dims when he thinks about it.

Connor _can_ block him and Freddie loathes the way the bond feels when he's blocking it. It's like having someone turn down a dimmer switch on reality. He tries not to say anything but Connor only really blocks the bond when he feels shitty. So Freddie hates it twice as much. Freddie's told Connor that he wants to share those feelings too and Connor is, maybe, starting to believe him. Freddie's trying hard not to push.

He really hasn't earned the right to push. He wants to. Sometimes he wonders that Connor never seems to feel the ugly possessiveness that boils up whenever something that isn't Freddie takes up Connor's attention. He's not proud of it. Connor might think it's just a hangover from the confusion when Freddie didn't know Connor was his. He always thinks better of Freddie than he should, considering the bond.

They don't use words that often. It's mostly feelings and sensations across the bond. Actual words take deliberate effort. There isn't really any language to describe how it feels to share someone's thoughts and feelings. Soulmates don't need them and non-mated can't understand. Freddie loves feeling Connor's random moments of joy or distraction throughout the day. Connor's naturally much sunnier than Freddie and he sees the world as mostly full of good things. Freddie just ...doesn't but having Connor glowing in the back of his mind makes it easier to let the petty shit slide off him.

Connor can think _at_ Freddie and Freddie will hear his voice but Connor doesn't do that very often. Too polite, too Canadian, his boy. Freddie learns to treasure the moments where Connor does call out to him. The rest of the time, he knows when Connor's thinking of him by the way his thoughts glow extra bright.

* * *

Freddie's thirteen the first time he realizes that his soulmark is going to be a problem. He's just ahead of his first growth spurt, failing English because he thinks the book they have to read is whiny bullshit and he's in love. She's Greta and she's a merry, sporty girl who laughs at his awkward jokes.

She doesn't have a soulmark.

Freddie forgets that's important.

They flirt clumsily with each other. They're barely teenagers, just kids but they think they're practically grown-ups. Dumb but it's not a problem until Freddie actually asks her out. Greta says yes.

He gets one date. He walks her back to her front door, his mom in the car parked by the road and that's his first kiss. It's his last kiss for nearly a year and a half. Greta breaks up with him a week later. It's a bad break-up because they're just kids and they've never had a relationship before so they don't really know how to end it. Freddie gets his heart broken.

"You're not going to be in love with me," Greta tells him. "You're in love with her!"

Nothing Freddie can say will convince her that he's not in love with his soulmate. Freddie feels like he's going crazy and the break-up gets loud and messy. Well, messier. Freddie breaks three sticks before his pappa gets him running laps instead. He doesn't think he calms down for a month.

His mamma tries to explain but Freddie is angry and he isn't ready to be angry at Greta. He's angry at his soulmate but he can't keep it up. If he can't love his soulmate before he meets them, he can't hate them either. So he hates his soulmark instead. He's just so angry at everything.

* * *

"So," Matts says to him in November of that first year. "Not that I'm not happy to see you all the time..."

Freddie grunts at him and manages another rep before he has to rack his weights. He doesn't trust Matts' smirk. He's happy to be playing with the guy but he's been smirking for like the last month. "I'm hearing a 'but' in that sentence."

"No but," Matts isn't even trying to hide his smile. "I'm just surprised you wanted to use the weights."

Freddie just stares at him until he cracks.

"I'm just saying," Matts takes Freddie's place on the bench. "Brownie's doing cardio with Hyms and Willy."

Freddie is suddenly very grateful that he's already red in the face. He buys himself a couple of seconds by mopping his face with his towel. He manages to keep his voice even. "Is he?"

"Uh-huh," Matts puffs out a big breath and Freddie considers just letting him squish himself. "Surprised you didn't know that already."

"Shut up," Freddie warns him.

"I'm just sa-aying," Matts grins up at him. "You should ask him out."

Freddie scoffs. "He's got a soulmark."

"So do you," Matts says like that means anything.

"He's not like me," Freddie points out. "He's into the whole 'soulmate' thing."

"So everyone keeps saying," Matts grunts through a tenth rep and his arms wobble so Freddie lifts the weights onto the rack and arches an eyebrow at him. "He's never said anything about soulmates to me."

Freddie's never even heard Brownie say the word 'soulmate' but that might just be a case of Freddie's reputation preceding him. He's not stupid. He knows what the gossip says about him. It saved Freddie a lot of time when he finally joined the team. Brownie never said anything about the cover on his wrist. Freddie was listening two nights ago when Skinner asked Brownie where he got it. Brownie said Amazon and promised to text him. That's the closest they've ever come to a conversation about Marks.

Freddie had just assumed that Brownie was being a well-mannered Canadian. Brownie doesn't talk to Freddie as much as he talks to the rest of the guys. Honestly, if Brownie didn't room with Matts, Freddie doesn't think he'd ever see the guy off-ice which is a shame.

When he does get the chance to talk, Brownie seems chill. He's nice. Actually nice, not just 'nice' in the way that most people use it. Freddie likes how easily Brownie laughs even at the stupid jokes. He runs card games on the plane and he always seems to be around when Freddie's feeling off with suggestions for stuff to do. Freddie still misses California but Toronto's growing on him. He's willing to admit (to himself) that Brownie's a big part of that.

"It'd never work," is all he says.

* * *

Freddie only sits through the stupid meeting because he knows Connor isn't ready to go public. He gets it. That's why he hasn't argued harder for outing themselves. Connor's spent two years believing the bond was broken and waiting for the BRS symptoms to end his career. Freddie _knows_ that. He's been there for all the nightmares. Connor doesn't talk about those feelings. Freddie hates it but he's not exactly in a position to argue. So Freddie's showing up to the stupid, pointless meeting so they can show they're working with the organization.

The PR crew they're talking to are all assholes though.

Connor pokes him mentally and Freddie sends a wave of exasperation down the bond.

He's not stupid. They're both professional players in a very old fashioned sport in the biggest hockey market on the planet. Freddie's not going to do anything stupid to show off their relationship. He's happy enough to keep their 'going-out' dates to other cities where people don't know them. Here in Toronto, date-night means a chance to stay home which Freddie is fine with. They won't be playing hockey forever and they can come out after they retire if they still want to. He can wait. Connor loves him. He has his soulmate.

Connor blushes but the bond's warm with affection.

"It can be seen as super progressive," Letia says with a smile. "But we want it to be on our terms."

Freddie fixes her with a stare. Connor thinks he's being rude. Connor also agrees with him which is why he's not saying anything to Freddie. Freddie catches his eye and Connor rolls his eyes.

"So we should just keep doing what we're doing," Freddie says flatly. "Great. Good meeting."

He stands up before Letia can say anything and Connor follows him out of the door. Connor does catch his hand as they wait for the elevator but he doesn't say anything until the doors close behind them. Freddie can feel his worry and squeezes his hand.

"You know I'm not, like, ashamed or anything, right?" Connor says at last. 

"I know," Freddie says.

"I'm stupid crazy in love with you," Connor says as easily as if he's commenting on the weather. "And there's a part of me that really wants to show you off but I just...I don't want other people thinking it's their business!"

"I know."

"But, like, you want to go public," Connor says sadly and Freddie turns to face him. "And I'm the one who's saying we shouldn't and that's not fair to you and—"

"Connor," Freddie interrupts, tugging Connor around so he's looking up at Freddie. "I get it. There's a difference between something being private and something being secret. All the boys know. My family knows. Your family knows. We have time to decide when, or _if_ , we want to tell other people."

That gets a half smile but Connor's worry still buzzes down the bond. Freddie dips his head to press their foreheads together.

"I am totally cool with keeping things low-key," Freddie promises. "This is ours first. We don't owe anyone a story."

"Okay," Connor tips his head just enough to kiss Freddie lightly. "But, like, you'd tell me, right? If you did wanna go public?"

"I would," Freddie promises and Connor's smile is dazzling.

* * *

Freddie isn't drunk when the boys start talking about soulmates. He just really wishes he was. The vets are full of all the 'everyone knows' bullshit but the former Marlies actually seem to know what they're talking about.

"Brownie's got a soulmate somewhere," Willy explains. "He talks about it all the time."

"No, he doesn't," Naz snorts.

"He used to," Willy says, looking around. Brownie's still at the bar, thankfully.

"Really?" Bozie sniffs doubtfully.

"Yeah," Hyms is definitely drunk, smiling fuzzily at his empty glass. "'s sweet, you know? Used to talk about 'em all the time. It was cool."

"Did it after we got beat," Mango says and he's smiling dopily at the table. "Used some of those lines on my girlfriend. Worked like a charm. Brownie's romantic!"

"Dude!" Matts laughs but Willy's drunk enough that his indignant cry comes out waaaay too loud. 

"Shhhh!" Mo hisses. "Brownie's coming back!"

Everyone shushes so the whole table is suspiciously quiet when Brownie works his way through the crowd. Brownie might not have heard what Mango said but he's not stupid. Freddie isn't surprised when he looks warily around the table. He is surprised when Brownie outs himself. Mitch manages to distract everyone almost immediately but Freddie watches the rest of the team with narrowed eyes.

Everyone seems to be cool but Freddie exchanges knowing glances with some of the vets. It's easy to be okay with a bi teammate when you're drunk and celebrating. Sober in the locker room can be a very different story. Brownie doesn't seem too worried but Mo's already shuffled down a couple of seats to talk to him. Mo's drunk but he's a good guy and he's an A. Freddie's pretty sure that he's cool but when Brownie leaves the table, Freddie follows him to the bar.

He doesn't mean to ask about Brownie's Mark. It's been two seasons with neither of them mentioning their marks. But Brownie rubs his wrist against his leg and Freddie wonders suddenly if Brownie's actually found his soulmate and that's why he never talks about it the way everyone says he used to.

Freddie doesn't think he'd have been able to keep that a secret but it's late enough that the night is tapering off and the little booth feels almost intimate. Brownie's a little flushed and his hair is curling over his forehead. Freddie thinks that he'd like to taste how soft Brownie's lips really are. It's not a new thought but he doesn't try to push it away this time. 

Brownie's cover catches Freddie's eye. He's never seen any player wear such a solid cover. Brownie's hand twitches when he notices Freddie looking. He dodges the question when Freddie asks if he's looking for his soulmate. Brownie doesn't sound like he wants to find them. He doesn't sound happy about having a soulmate but Freddie doesn't get a chance to press. Willy comes barging over and that's the night. He doesn't get a chance to ask if Brownie's met his soulmate. Instead, Freddie ends up in an Uber with Matts and Mo who are both already asleep. Freddie stares out at the city as they work through the late night traffic. He wonders what happened to make Brownie so wary of even talking about soulmates. Has something happened? 

Freddie thinks Connor's soulmate is the luckiest fucker on the planet.

* * *

The California road-trip is the first proper road-trip of the season this year and Freddie has to do some fast talking to convince Babs to let them share a room. He's had more embarrassing conversations but being forced into ...actually, no. Promising Mike Babcock that he wouldn't fuck Connor so hard he needed to be benched _is_ the most embarrassing conversation he's ever going to have. They get permission to share a room so it's worth it but still...

Freddie's distracted so he doesn't even realize that he hasn't talked to Connor about telling his old teammates about them until he gets a dinner invite from Cogs.

' _At Gibs' place, we're thinking sushi?_ '

Freddie is boarding the plane when he reads that message. Connor's already been dragged into a poker game with Matts and Marns so Freddie's indecision stays private. He's torn. On the one hand, going for dinner has been his tradition since the Leafs' first game with him in net. On the other, not bringing Connor would be treating him like some kind of dirty secret. Like Freddie's ashamed of him. It gets worse when he reaches out mentally to find that Connor's fully expecting Freddie to abandon him to an empty hotel room and Netflix.

_It's your night with your boys,_ Connor thinks at him. Freddie can't pick up on any hurt but there's a hint of resignation that makes Freddie bristle. Then Connor is distracted by Hyms demanding he reshuffle the deck and Freddie has some privacy to brood.

He's furious but Freddie's not sure why. Connor's being perfectly reasonable. Freddie's always gone off to spend an evening with his old teammates when the timing allows. He's always gone alone. Even Auston doesn't come with him. It makes sense that Connor's expecting him to go alone. They're not actually joined at the hip. They've done things separately since they acknowledged the bond. Connor has approximately a million friends in the greater Toronto area who are always stopping by or inviting him out.

Freddie doesn't know why this is different. Nobody is expecting him to bring Connor. _Connor_ isn't expecting him to bring Connor. Freddie's the only one worrying about it. He plugs in his headphones and tries to figure out what has him so wrongfooted.

It's not like the Ducks didn't know Freddie had a soulmate. They all knew he had a Mark. They all know what that means; a soulmate is permanent. Fuck knows they spent enough time talking about how cool it would be to have a soulmate. Really, the only thing that's changed is Freddie's soulmate isn't some hypothetical girl. Connor's his soulmate. 

Freddie's under no illusions; Getzlaf and Perry will be assholes about this. He's not sure he wants to tell them, especially not before the game. Babs will murder him if he punches them for hassling Connor. 

Other than those two? Freddie thinks the rest of the boys are going to be cool. They won't get it but they'll be happy for him. Freddie had a couple of conversations about how he might not be one hundred percent straight on drunk nights out and nobody ever said shit to him. Cogs and the boys are his friends. 

Freddie honestly doesn't mind not being 'out' to the general public and the Toronto media in particular. They've talked about that. But these aren't just random people. These are his friends. He's not going to keep Connor a secret forever. Hell, he's not going to keep Connor a secret past the end of the season. Freddie's planning to bring Connor back to California with him in the off-season. He's not going to be able to hide Connor then. Eventually, the fact that they're soulmates is going to come out and Freddie's going to have to tell his old teammates. He doesn't want them finding out because he _has_ to tell them. That would be too much like he's ashamed of Connor. 

He's really, really not. He loves Connor. Connor loves him. They're soulmates. Freddie wants to tell his friends because this is the best thing to ever happen to him.

Determined, he sends a message to Cogs as soon as the seatbelt light clicks off. ' _bringing a +1_ '

It shouldn't be a problem. Cogs and Gibson both bring their wives to these dinners. He gets back a string of question marks, then a thumbs up and ' _can't wait to meet her_ '. 

Freddie decides not to correct the pronoun. Some conversations are easier face to face.

Then, of course, Freddie has to convince Connor to come. His boy's got a stubborn streak wider than the state and a whole head full of good Canadian manners. Freddie has to insist that Connor's already been invited and he can't just not show. He's even willing to stop at a very nice winery so Connor can buy a bottle of wine as a gift. Connor's worry simmers the whole way through the airport and out onto the bus to the hotel. They go right back out. Freddie's driving and Connor drums his fingers against the dashboard. He's wearing a loose cover, barely more than a wrap of fabric, and his Mark peeks through in places.

Freddie smiles every time he sees it.

It's getting dark when they pull into the driveway and Freddie hits the intercom. Cogs sounds good, hearty and healthy. Freddie can hear some other voices in the background and Connor's nerves spike. Freddie pats his leg as the gates swing open. Connor breathes very deliberately the whole way up the drive, picking at the gift-tag on the bag holding the wine.

He lets Freddie get out first. Cogs throws the door open and hugs Freddie.

"Freddie! Good to see you! Hey, everybody! Freddie's here!"

Freddie grins at him. The sound of the car door closing behind him makes Cogs refocus and he leans around Freddie. "So, who's your friend?"

Freddie can't keep the smile off his face as he holds out his hand and Connor, so nervous that he's afraid he's going to be sick, takes it. "Cogs, meet Connor Brown. He's my soulmate."

* * *

"Cool if we hang in my room tonight?" Matts says quietly as they file off the ice. Freddie just grunts. It was a fucking stupid loss. Babs looks like he swallowed an entire lemon and all the coaching staff are flitting around him with their eyes averted like he's going to explode.

Freddie sits through the speech, tearing the tape off the butt of his stick, and doesn't say anything.

Stupid loss. Stupid, stupid loss. The media pour in and Freddie grits his teeth through a hundred different variations of "Do you think you should have saved some of those goals?"

He's in a filthy mood by the time they get back to the hotel. He's in such a bad mood, in fact, that he almost doesn't go down the corridor. Matts doesn't deserve Freddie's bad mood. Freddie's only going to piss himself off if he stays in his own room though, so he drops his bag and goes right back out.

It's not Auston who answers the door. It's Brownie, who looks exhausted and surprised to see Freddie. He's still mostly in his game-day suit but his tie's undone and he's clearly been running his hands through his hair. He looks rumpled and sleepy-eyed, like he's just rolled out of bed and Freddie's fingers itch to touch the lock of hair that curls down over his forehead.

"Auston," Freddie says and Brownie nods, stepping back to let him in.

"He's got the one on the left," Brownie says, waving vaguely at the beds. He finishes pulling off his tie and face-plants into his own bed. "Fucking _Tampa_ , man."

Freddie snorts but he smiles a little at Brownie's exasperation. He flops onto Auston's bed, the mattress blissfully soft under him. He sighs and hears a gusty echo from the direction of Brownie's bed. He's definitely smiling now.

Brownie doesn't say anything. He's probably the only one of the rookies who isn't afraid to just let the silence sit. Freddie appreciates that right now. He's not in the mood for another fucking pep talk. The game sucked, he sucked and he'll do better next time. Brownie doesn't say anything like that and Freddie gets to just...relax. Brownie does push himself up eventually and Freddie rolls his head to look at him.

"That fucking sucked," Brownie says bluntly. "I need a pick-me up."

"You're not old enough to raid the mini-bar," Freddie points out.

"I'm not gonna raid the mini-bar," Brownie grumbles. He goes over to his suitcase and breaks out a Tupperware box that pops open to release the smell of chocolate and coffee.

"What is that?"

"My mom made me cupcakes," Brownie said.

"Pretty sure those aren't on the diet plan," Freddie says to distract himself from how good they smell. His stomach gurgles and Brownie laughs at him.

"They're not," Brownie admits, shooting a mischievous smile over his shoulder. "But I might be willing to share a couple...in return for your silence?"

Freddie sits up enough to take one of the cupcakes. "Coach will never know."

"I'm less worried about Coach then I am about the bottomless pit known as Mitch Marner," Brownie says wryly and this time, Freddie's the one who laughs. Brownie grins at him and Freddie thinks he has a really nice smile. "Last time I made brownies, I turned my back for two seconds while they were cooling and there was, like, one left when I turned back!"

The cupcake is delicious, just the right blend of coffee and sweet. Freddie eats three of them in the end.

"Your mom is an incredible baker," he tells Brownie as he licks the frosting off his fingers. Brownie looks a little flushed when he looks down.

"I'll tell her you said so."

Brownie saves a cupcake for Matts who shows up looking harried and drawn. Brownie hands over the cupcake and Freddie thinks Matts might actually cry. He doesn't but he does hug Brownie hard enough that Brownie squeaks. Brownie's changed into sweats and a ratty t-shirt by then, though he's still wearing the thick cover on his left wrist from the game. Freddie's going to be thinking of how Brownie looked, stripped to his boxers and ruffling his hair as he looked for his toothbrush, for a long time. Brownie pats Matt on the back and waves his phone at them.

"Zach needs my help to wrangle Willy, I'll be back in a bit."

Matts offers to come but Brownie waves him off and slips out the door before Matts can even sit up. He comes back just before curfew, looking more than a little wan. Matts is snoring faintly in his bed and Freddie's just about done in himself. Brownie holds the door for Freddie. He startles when Freddie catches his arm. Brownie's got surprisingly soft skin for a professional athlete.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," Brownie's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Just tired."

"Go to bed then," Freddie lets go of him reluctantly. "Get some sleep."

"You too," Brownie yawns so wide that Freddie hears his jaw crack. "Night, Freddie."

"G'night, Brownie."

* * *

Freddie has no opinion on Tyler Ennis. He has to look the guy up on nhl.com to remember who he is when his phone alerts him that the guy's signed with the Leafs. A veteren. A small player with a lot of heart who doesn't have a reputation for drama. Freddie reads the press release, Ennis' bio and just sort of shrugs it off. He's back in Denmark for a few weeks before the season so he's not even in the city when Ennis signs.

He doesn't even remember Ennis has signed until Mitch starts bitching in the group chat about how Brownie isn't picking up his calls.

It gets Freddie's attention; Brownie doesn't usually duck people's calls. He and Mitch should be starting pre-season training together.

The next message is from Mo and says simply ' _he's training with enzo._ '

Kappy wants to know why Brownie isn't training with the rest of the group. Mitch wants to know who the fuck Enzo is.

' _Tyler Ennis,_ ' Mo writes. ' _signed in the off-season._ '

He adds a link to Ennis' insta and Freddie clicks it immediately. The front page loads and Brownie's in every single photo.

That's the first thing Freddie notices. 

The second thing that Freddie notices is Brownie looks like shit. He looks like he hasn't put on any weight in the off season, he's got dark _pits_ under his eyes and every smile that Enzo captures looks fake.

Freddie's looking for Brownie's number when his phone buzzes again. It's a message from Mitch.

' _holy shit, enzo's wearing a cover!!!_ '

Freddie actually drops his phone in his haste to get back to Ennis' insta page. It takes a couple of minutes but yeah, he's definitely wearing a cover. Several covers. Most un-mated players only have the one they wear on match-days. Freddie scrolls back through Ennis' insta and there's a selfie from a restaurant with Brownie smiling awkwardly at the camera but Ennis' left wrist is visible and he's wearing a faintly-worn leather strap on his wrist.

Freddie goes back to the most recent pictures. There's a lot of them. It looks like Ennis is working out with Brownie just about every day. There aren't a lot of pictures of the two of them outside the gym but Brownie just looks worn-out and miserable. Freddie goes back to the group chat just in time to read Naz's message saying that 'everyone' knows Ennis has a soulmark. It came up in his rookie interviews apparently.

' _does he have a soulmate?_ ' Kappy asks.

' _No record of one,_ ' Zaits chimes in. ' _perhaps he is brownie's soulmate? :P_ '

Freddie nearly cracks his phone in half. He doesn't add anything to the group chat but he does send Matts a message. Matts hears a lot of gossip. Perks of being the number one pick. If Ennis does have a soulmate, Auston's probably heard about it. Freddie goes to get some cardio in and if he spends half an hour pounding on the bag in the corner, well, that's his business.

Matts FaceTimes him two minutes after Freddie's stepped out of the shower. Freddie says hi and towels off his hair while Matts catches him up on his family and news.

"Why so curious about Ennis?" Matts asks eventually. "Is it the soulmate thing? I mean, you don't bitch about Brownie so I thought you were pretty much over that shit."

"I don't care that he's got a soulmark," Freddie says and means it.

"Then why are you so curious?" Matts says.

"Tell me what you found out first," Freddie parries.

Matts snorts. "Ennis has a soulmark but he's always kept it covered. Only time he talked about it that I know about was in his rookie year. He's never had a long-term relationship that I can find out about but everything I hear says that he's a good guy. Little on the small side but solid. Probably going to be on the fourth line."

"Have you seen his insta?" Freddie demands.

"No, didn't get the chance," Matts sounds puzzled. "Why?"

"He's been working out with Brownie," Freddie says. Matts smirks at him. "Brownie's been ducking everyone else on the team and he looks like shit."

"He okay?" Matts asks. "I didn't hear that he was sick or hurt."

"If he is, he hasn't told anyone," Freddie says tersely. "He's not talking to anyone."

Matts frowns. "Mitch's been bitching about Brownie ghosting him..."

"But he's fine when Tyler fucking Ennis wants to go the gym with him?" Freddie snorts. "Does that sound like Brownie to you?"

"No," Matts admits. He squints down at his phone. "Shit. You weren't kidding. Brownie looks rough."

Freddie growls and Matts refocuses on him with a frown.

"Okay, what am I missing?"

"Nothing," Freddie says through his teeth. Matts just fixes him with an unimpressed stare. "I'm just ...worried."

"Uh-huh," Matts scoffs. "I can see your murder-face just fine. Why does Brownie looking like shit have you so pissed at Ennis?"

"I'm not," Freddie snarls. Matts waits him out. Freddie nearly hangs up but Matts has his mom's phone number and no shame about using it. "I just...Ennis's looking for a soulmate. Brownie's spending all his time with him..."

"You think Brownie's Ennis' soulmate?" Matts laughs. "No way. No way Brownie doesn't shout that from the rooftops!"

"He barely even talks about his soulmark," Freddie reminds him. "Ennis was playing for Minnesota last year. He might have recognized Brownie then and followed him to Toronto."

"That's a little out there, isn't it?" Matts sounds doubtful.

"Brownie didn't say anything about his soulmate last year," Freddie says. "He didn't have to keep quiet about his Mark. He knew he wouldn't be bothering me but he still said nothing."

"Huh," Matts looks away for a couple of seconds. "I think you're just jealous."

"Fuck off," Freddie does hang up on him and storms off to go for a run.

Of course, he's jealous. Freddie's been attracted to Brownie since forever. He would have asked him months ago if they weren't both soulmated to other people. Freddie would have worked past that if Brownie's soulmate had treated him right. If Brownie was happy, Freddie could grit his teeth and at least _tolerate_ the guy. Brownie deserves to be happy and Freddie wants him to be happy.

Ennis isn't making Brownie happy. Brownie looks ...defeated in all the pictures Freddie can see. Brownie isn't supposed to look like that. His _soulmate_ isn't supposed to make Brownie look like that.

Freddie's going to break Ennis' knees into a billion bitty pieces and _stamp_ on them!

* * *

The first time Connor gets hurt in the regular season, Freddie honestly tries to kill someone.

He doesn't know what DeAngelo said to Naz after the icing. Freddie's watching the two sides skating up the ice to take the face-off when a hot flash of anger from Connor jerks his head up. Connor ducks around Naz to put himself between them and Freddie can't see any details. He knows Connor's angry, which is unusual. Freddie's the one with the temper. He can see Naz squaring up, see the way he tosses his head but there are three officials _right there_.

Freddie doesn't think anything is going to happen.

He focuses on the puck, even as Connor and Enzo trade off around the circle. He's expecting Connor to calm down but there's a sting of spite simmering under the anger he can still feel. Freddie watches the puck drop, it gets snapped back and then it's coming around the boards. Enzo misses it but Connor's already racing back. He beats the Rangers to the puck in the corner and sends it flying back towards the Rangers' end. Freddie sees the puck cross the blue line.

Then DeAngelo slams Connor face-first into the boards, just short of the benches.

Freddie's awareness of Connor disappears.

He's out of his net before the whistles go. He sees DeAngelo's smug expression dissolve into terror. Then Freddie hits him. He's lost his glove and blocker somewhere so he feels the way DeAngelo's face squishes under his knuckles. He gets three punches in before everyone else gets there. The line brawl is a confusion of blue and white jerseys. Freddie barely notices. He's got both linesmen hanging off his arms and shouting. He can't hear the words over the rush of blood in his ears. 

They get him off DeAngelo eventually.

Freddie barely hears Babs shouting. Enzo has both arms around his waist. Naz punches Kreider in the nose. 

"FREDDIE!" Enzo yells in his ear. "Brownie's gonna need you!"

That makes Freddie jerk his gaze away from DeAngelo. Connor's still face-down on the ice with the trainers from both teams kneeling beside him. He's not moving. Freddie reaches for the bond and finds it. Dim and almost silent but still there. He sees the Rangers' trainer wave for assistance. Then there's a flicker across the bond. Confused and barely scraped together. Freddie hears Connor groan.

The stretcher is hurried onto the ice even as the crowd mutters and Freddie watches them roll Connor carefully onto the stretcher and strap on the neck brace. Connor manages to lift his hand as they wheel him away and the crowd clap. Freddie can't see his face and what's coming through the bond is jerky and full of a hazy static that Freddie hasn't felt since Tom Wilson knocked Connor out in the preseason.

The linesmen let him go carefully, hands hovering like they're expecting him to launch himself at DeAngelo again. Freddie's too worried to be angry. He'd thought Connor blocking the bond was the worst feeling. He was wrong.

There's less than thirty seconds to play in the period so the refs send them to the locker-rooms early. Freddie barely registers the way Babs glares at him. He just shakes Enzo off and follows the team back to the locker room. He's still getting those intermittent flashes across the bond and he thinks distantly, that he's going to be sick. Sparks claps a hand on his shoulder that Freddie barely feels.

"Freddie?" Mitch hangs back to peer up at him. "Brownie's okay, right? Like it's just precautionary? Yeah?"

"I don't know," Freddie says and he can't watch the way Mitch's whole face crumples at that.

The boys are quiet, all of them watching him and chewing on their lips. Babs herds them into the locker room.

"Freddie, you're done for the night," Babs says as soon as the doors close. "One of the trainers'll get you to the hospital."

"Thanks, Coach," Freddie starts tearing off his pads. He has to swallow the bile burning at the back of his throat a couple of times and he only ducks into the showers when Hyms suggests that all the blood on his face is going to scare Brownie. He doesn't hear a word of what Coach says to the boys. He doesn't think they're paying attention either. JT catches him as he pulls a hoodie over his head.

"Tell Brownie..." JT swallows. "Tell him we're going to win this one for him, okay?"

Freddie nods. He doesn't trust his voice. Mo tells him to be sure to bring his phone and Freddie has to go back for it. Zaits hands him a couple of ice-packs and Freddie nods at him. He doesn't bang the door behind him when he goes. He has to follow the trainer, because he doesn't know the best way out of the Garden. His phone is buzzing merrily away in his pocket. Freddie's hands are shaking so hard he can barely keep the ice packs pressed against his knuckles.

The trainer talks to him, Freddie's pretty sure. He doesn't hear a word of it.

He gets into the passenger seat and stares blankly at the dashboard. The trainer puts the radio on. Freddie barely hears it. 

It's funny, he thinks. He spent his whole life, up to three months ago, alone in his head. Connor's been quiet for like ten minutes and it feels like trying to stand with a bad concussion. All his thoughts rattle around in his head until his whole skull is filled with them and he can't even think. Connor's absence is an echoing pit. He swallows. 

There's a hand on his arm and Freddie lifts his head to see they're stopped.

"Red light," the trainer says. "You should drink something. No sense falling over from dehydration."

Freddie takes the Gatorade bottle and drinks it mechanically. New York is a blur of brilliant lights and car horns everywhere. Freddie barely sees any of it. He finishes the bottle and pulls at the strap of his cover until it falls to the floor. His mark is still bright and sharp. He still has a soulmate. Freddie runs his fingers over the pattern as they work their way through the evening traffic.

He doesn't know the name of the hospital. He doesn't care. He knows that Connor is in there; the weak flicker of the bond getting just a little stronger. The trainer does the talking. There's a nurse, a tired lady with purple cornrows and pink scrubs, who gets them to the room.

"We're waiting on the scans," she says, lowering her voice as she reaches for the door handle, "before we take off the brace. Pretty obvious concussion so we have the lights dim and I'm going to have to ask you to be quiet."

Freddie nods, all his attention on the dark room. She shakes her head at him and steps out of his way. Freddie creeps into the room. It feels too small and he's irrationally terrified that he's going to knock something over. There's a low, steady beep from the heart monitor. The blue light from the instruments make Connor look like a ghost. He looks tiny on that hospital bed with all his gear piled on the floor out of the way. He has a neck brace and a splint on his right wrist and there are bandages wrapped around his head.

Connor stirs almost as soon as Freddie steps across the threshold, left hand lifting from the bed. "..reddie?"

"I'm here," Freddie reaches out to catch his hand. He feels Connor's hazy fear and then it drains away as Connor cracks a bloodshot eye open to see him. Freddie tries for a smile. "I'm here. It's going to be okay."

"Good," Connor mumbles and his fingers curl loosely around Freddie's. "My head...hurts. 'S too much beeping."

"That's what you get when you let yourself get boarded," Freddie almost manages to keep his voice even.

"Wasn't my idea," Connor whines.

"I know," Freddie says. "Fucking asshole."

"Not gonna argue with that," Connor peeks up at him and Freddie huffs.

"Just rest," Freddie says. "I'm here."

"Kay." Connor lets his eyes close again. "Gonna listen to the doc?"

"Someone has to," Freddie says, pressing his lips against the back of Connor's hand. Connor doesn't answer in words but the slow wash of affection and love that flows across the bond makes Freddie's knees go weak.

He settles into the chair, fingers still wound tightly around Connor's hand and just tries to project security and comfort. Connor drifts off but the bond doesn't dim, just unfocuses and Freddie takes a couple of deep breaths. He doesn't know how long he sits in that dimly lit room, Connor's hand in his but the doctor who comes tells Freddie that Connor hasn't got a neck injury.

"His concussion is likely to be fairly severe," she says as she leafs through some paperwork on a clipboard. "I believe he was suffering from Bond Rejection Syndrome?"

"He was." Fear runs like ice water down Freddie's back. "But he's cured. We found each other."

"How long has he been in remission?"

"Three months," Freddie says. "Maybe three and a half?"

"Hmm," the doctor bends over her clipboard. "He was diagnosed three years ago?"

"Two," Freddie says. "He had it for two years."

"We would expect most of the symptoms to have resolved themselves quite rapidly," the doctor says, "but he is likely not back to a 'normal' healing rate yet. The fact that you were able to come here so quickly is useful but I think we will have to keep him overnight at least to be sure there are no complications."

Freddie looks helplessly at the trainer who shakes his head. "Don't worry about it, Freddie. I'll handle it."

Freddie doesn't argue. He's getting angry again, this time at himself. He fucking hates this. Hates himself for doing this to Connor. 

_All you had to do was keep your mouth shut for two minutes,_ Freddie thinks viciously. _Just long enough for him to say hey._

He doesn't think it would have been as easy to accept back then. He hadn't known Connor then, except as a fast young rookie with a too-wide smile and a goofy laugh. Freddie wouldn't have been thrilled but he thinks that Brownie, who the whole team loved, would have won him over sooner rather than later. Freddie's tried to imagine what being in Toronto for those first few months would have been like if he'd had Connor's sunny thoughts to keep him balanced.

He opens his eyes as Connor tugs weakly on his hand. "Hey. Hey...Freddie. Y'okay?"

"I'm fine," Freddie promises him. "You're the one who got injured."

Connor rolls his head as far as the brace will permit to look at him. "Y're sad."

"I'm not," Freddie argues.

"Freddie-sad," Connor insists and unbelievably, the corner of his mouth curls up. "Sorta sad where you're gonna punch it inna face!"

Freddie laughs and Connor's smile turns a little smug. Freddie bends to kiss his forehead before the doctor unhooks the collar. "You know me so well, Kaere."

"Course I do," Connor's slurring his words but it's exhaustion, Freddie thinks, not pain. "You're my soulmate!"

"Yeah," Freddie has to kiss him, careful of the butterfly stitches and the bruises. "I am."

* * *

Freddie gets the start for the first game of the season against the Oilers. It's not a big deal. Freddie's got better things to think about. He and Connor are still feeling out their relationship and honestly, Freddie is more focused on how to convince Connor to move in with him than anything else during warm-ups. Connor slept in his own apartment the night before so his cat didn't forget who he was. Freddie had followed him back for the pre-game nap since he hadn't slept properly the night before.

Connor hadn't believed him. Freddie kissed him breathless before reminding him that he could read Freddie's mind.

Connor still hadn't pushed but he'd curled up with Freddie on a bed that wasn't quite big enough for two grown hockey players. Freddie half-turns his head to see Connor glide past, talking to Hyms and Mitch before Mitch peels off to bother Matts. 

He isn't expecting Connor McDavid to skate up to the red line and stare down at him for a second before he shoos his own goalie away. Freddie kicks his legs out, testing the butterfly and raises his eyebrows at the kid. McDavid looks down at him, at Freddie's wrist where he's wearing a bright Leafs blue cover then looks over at where Brownie is laughing with Hyms and Kappy. Connor has pulled off his glove to take a water bottle and his cover shows briefly as he takes a drink.

McDavid squares his jaw and drops down to stretch beside Freddie. Freddie watches him out of the corner of his eye. McDavid keeps up the pretense of stretching for a couple of seconds before he scowls at Freddie. Freddie stares back at him impassively. 

"So," McDavid says. "You and Brownie..."

Freddie narrows his eyes at the little punk and something must leak through the bond because he feels Connor's attention focus on him suddenly. Freddie sits up and back on his heels as McDavid purses his lips at him. He doesn't say anything. McDavid gets as far as opening his mouth before the hiss of skates on ice makes him snap his mouth shut. Connor glides to a stop beside them, steadying himself with a hand on Freddie's shoulder.

"Hey, Davo," Connor raps his knuckles lightly against Freddie's mask.

"Hey, Brownie," McDavid smiles up at him. His eyes dart to Freddie for a second before he continues, "I was just telling Andersen where we're going for dinner."

"You're taking Freddie out to dinner?" Connor says doubtfully. He reaches for Freddie but Freddie sends him the mental equivalent of a shrug. It's the first he's hearing of it.

"No, I'm taking you and Freddie to dinner," McDavid corrects. He tilts his head at Connor's wrist where the matching cover sits over his mark. "Apparently we have a lot to catch up on?"

Connor looks down, back up at McDavid and draws the inevitable conclusion. He turns around. "MITCH!"

He launches himself across the ice, leaving Freddie to smile fondly after him.

"Brownie's a friend of mine," McDavid says and Freddie looks back at him. "A really good friend."

"I'm aware," Freddie says.

"As long as you're treating him right, we're good," McDavid says. He's going a little pink across his cheeks. "If he's happy, then I'm happy for you. Brownie's a good guy. The best kind of guy and if you break his heart..."

Freddie snorts and pushes himself out of the stretch, getting his legs under him.

"If you break his heart," McDavid repeats, "I'll get Lucic to break your knees."

He pushes himself up and away before Freddie can think of anything clever to say. Freddie's left staring after him until Coach's whistle calls him back to the bench. Sparks skates over, looking after McDavid with a baffled expression.

"What was that about?"

"I just got the shovel talk," Freddie adjusts his mask. "I think."

Sparks bursts out laughing hard enough to draw in half the team. Freddie ignores him, focusing on getting his head in the game.

He doesn't manage a shutout but he does keep McDavid off the scoresheet. It makes the dinner afterwards a little awkward. Connor and Draistl end up doing most of the talking while Freddie glares and McDavid pouts. Freddie would be more offended but Connor is so happy to be able to introduce Freddie as his soulmate that Freddie can't keep up the irritation. McDavid does corner Connor for a private conversation which goes right over Connor's head but Freddie would do much worse than eat excellent Japanese cuisine and talk hockey to make Connor happy.

Freddie even gets to go home with Connor when the dinner runs late. He kisses Connor everytime he hears Connor starting to fret that he's crowding Freddie and sleeps the whole night through with Connor tucked up beside him and Connor's cat purring rustily in his ear.

* * *

Connor makes a full recovery. He misses three matches, although he's in the press box for the games against Buffalo and the Islanders. Leo and Marty make a point of coming to see him for themselves. Leo claps him on the back and says something that makes Connor laugh loud enough that he winces.

"Don't go bashing brains out," Leo tells him seriously. "Not have any spare!"

"Oh, fuck you!" Connor is still smiling.

Marty hasn't quite grown out of being the big brother to all the old rookies. He's fussing around and checking in with all of them. He hugs Connor more carefully and talks to him seriously for a couple of minutes before he comes over to where Freddie is pulling on his pads.

"Hey," Marty taps his shoulder with a loose fist. "Congratulations, I'm happy for you."

"Thanks," Freddie doesn't even try to hide his smile. 

"You're good?"

"We're incredible," Freddie says. Marty beams at him.

"I was going to take you boys out. Had a reservation and everything but well.."

Freddie's hands tighten into fists and he sees an echo of his own anger reflected in Marty's eyes.

"So, I figure we'll do it when we're in Toronto," Marty squeezes Freddie's shoulder. "My treat."

"That'd be good," Freddie says. "It's mostly precautionary, the docs say."

"You don't fuck around with a head injury," Marty nods, mouth tilted in a wry smile.

"No," Freddie agrees.

"Seriously though, happy for you."

Freddie's on the bench for this game. Babs isn't happy with him but, considering the Department of Player Safety nailed DeAngelo to the wall and didn't say anything about what Freddie did, he can't really do anything. Freddie doesn't care. He wouldn't have his head in the game anyway. He keeps reaching for Connor, just to be sure that he's there. Connor's tired. His head hurts and his wrist is aching. He keeps forgetting he has a split lip until after he's taken a drink. He wants to be on the ice. He's a warm presence in the back of Freddie's head.

It's a good game. The crowd boos JT every time his skates touch the ice. Marty and Mo throw themselves around and Sparks gets some good saves. It's not enough to win but they manage to force overtime and Aho's game-winner is a lucky bounce. Freddie pats Sparks on the head, hearing the echo of Connor's disappointment. Babs doesn't have much to say, they all played well and they got three of four possible points from their stay in New York.

Freddie's back in net for the game against Buffalo which goes off the rails in the first five minutes and stays chaotic for the whole sixty minutes. Eichel gets one past him but Matts and Mitch score a pair each and the game is never really in doubt. They're on the plane home right after the game which means an hour on the taxiway in a plane full of jazzed-up hockey players.

Freddie snagged one of the back rows, got Connor tucked into the window seat and got some extra blankets from the trainers. Connor's asleep almost before they close the doors. He's curled into Freddie, random dreams floating across the back of Freddie's mind. Freddie leans his cheek against the top of Connor's head and sleeps through the entire delay and the flight back home.

They have a couple of days off and Connor checks in with the doc. Doctor Janet runs some tests, checks that his wrist is good to go and clears him for practice in the no-contact jersey for the day. Connor's thrilled. Freddie isn't ready to relax.

"The doc in the hospital said he was healing slow," Freddie says. "Because of the BRS."

Connor leans against him. "I'm fine though."

Freddie keeps looking at Doctor Janet who sighs and props her elbows on her desk. 

"Honestly, _honestly_ , Freddie," she starts. "The BRS is in full remission. Connor's symptoms were very mild for the first eighteen months I was treating him but it had progressed over the off season."

Connor swallows and Freddie reaches out to catch his hand and wind their fingers together. Connor's put on more muscle mass during the season than he did over the summer. 

"It's going to take time for you to recover from the long-term effects," Doctor Janet turns to Connor. "We expected that. You're both spending a lot of time together which is great! It's going to offset the worst of the side-effects but you need to give it time. I'm not worried about it but you should still be careful!"

"I am!" Connor protests and Freddie arches an eyebrow at him. "I am!"

"Uh-huh," Freddie says but the tight feeling in his chest loosens a bit. "Be more careful in future."

"Fiiiiine." Connor lists into his shoulder and digs his chin in. His eyes are soft when he looks up at Freddie. "I will. I promise."

* * *

It is kind of, sort of, _entirely_ Freddie's fault that nobody tells Willy.

It's not intentional. Freddie just wanted to be sure nobody was running their mouth about him and Connor where the media could hear. He might have overdone it. It might also be because nobody really talks to Willy about the team. They haven't been banned from talking to him but they're not really encouraged to. It's all a mess. Freddie isn't the only one who got warned off by his agent. So they mostly exchange comments on insta or the occasional Snapchat.

By the time Willy's contract actually gets signed, Freddie and Connor aren't news anymore. Nobody bats an eye at the two of them being a package deal most of the time. Connor's moved his locker closer to Freddie's and they have their own quiet little rituals before games. It's just how things are now.

Connor hasn't thought of it. He's been excited to hear Willy's coming back and Kappy comes over the morning of Willy's flight to make some lingonberry muffins for after practice. Well, Kappy is the one who finds the berries and the jam and Connor is the one who does the baking. Freddie's doing a PR thing with Matts and JT all morning but Kappy's spamming the group chat with pictures.

"He's saving some of them for the non-Europeans, right?" JT asks and Matts takes advantage of the lull between photos to ask Freddie if Connor will make brownies again.

"Not if the guys put them on insta where the coaching staff can see," Freddie says dryly. JT snorts and Matts grumbles and then they have to go stand in front of the cameras again.

The PR thing runs a little over so they don't make it back in time to welcome Willy back. He's already bouncing around the locker-room with his practice jersey on, chirping everyone. He's sort of circling Connor, Mitch, Hyms and Kappy but chatting to everyone. Freddie nods to him. He doesn't get the chance to say anything because Willy's noticed Connor's cover.

The Leafs brand covers are fabric and velcro. Freddie's on his sixth since the start of the season. Connor's had four but he keeps losing them during workouts. They're decent quality but nothing like the cover Connor had worn for the previous two seasons. Freddie only notices right now because Willy keeps looking at it. Willy doesn't say anything and they all troop out onto the ice.

Babs runs them through what feels like every single drill in the Coach's handbook. They finally get a water break and Connor grabs a bottle for Freddie. Freddie pushes his mask up and Connor leans into him. He's tired from the shooting drills and Freddie echoes it back. They have a rest day tomorrow and Connor thinks wistfully of sleeping in and breakfast at the little café that makes the best espresso Freddie's been able to find in Toronto.

_Sounds like a plan,_ Freddie thinks back at him and is rewarded with a bright smile.

He's not paying attention to the rest of the boys. Mitch is talking vaguely about going out to celebrate Willy's return but they're all tired and no-one seems that eager to hit the bars or clubs. Hyms tips his head back.

"How about something a little more low-key?"

"Whatcha thinking?" Mitch drops his empty bottle back onto the bench.

"Mario Kart and takeout?" Hyms says. "Like, there's a good sushi place near you and Freddie's place, right, Brownie?"

"So you're planning this at ours?" Freddie says dryly.

"It's really good sushi," Mitch grins at him. Connor tips his head to look up at Freddie, eyebrows raised. Willy chokes on his water.

"Wait," he coughs. "What the fuck? Since when are you and Brownie dating?!"

"Are we dating?" Connor grins up at Freddie. "I feel like we went straight to boring old marrieds."

"We aren't going to be allowed to skip the wedding," Freddie reminds him. "Your mom has been learning Danish on Duolingo for the video-chats. I'm pretty sure they have it planned out already."

"Are you fucking with me?" Willy glances around, scowling at everyone.

"Soulmates, man," Matts shrugs. "What do you expect?"

"YOU'RE SOULMATES!?!?" Willy shrieks.

That pretty much derails the practice and Willy ends up hauling Connor off to talk to him about it. Freddie hangs around, playing on his phone. Connor's distracted but he isn't upset. Freddie waits for him but it's Willy who comes looking for him, still dressed in his sweaty practice gear.

"So you're not fucking with me," Willy starts. "Unless you're fucking with Brownie too—"

"I wouldn't," Freddie interrupts.

"Yeah, I figured," Willy shrugs and his smile is sharp. "I mean, Brownie seems pretty happy and you were, like, smiling on the ice so I'm guessing you're happy too."

"Yeah," Freddie nods.

"Good," Willy smiles cheerfully up at him. "Break his heart and I'll hurt you, cool?"

Freddie sighs. "How is it that nobody threatens him about breaking my heart, huh?"

"He's nicer than you are," Willy smirks at him, "and he's my bro. Plus, like, Brownie's a marshmallow when it comes to people he likes."

"True," Freddie pushes off the wall. "I'm not going to break his heart."

"Good," Willy punches him lightly in the arm. "I'm gonna want to hear the rest of this story but first, I'm going to shower."

"Good," Freddie copies his obnoxious drawl. "You're buying dinner."

"Fuck you," Willy laughs and ducks past him into the locker-room. Connor comes out of the door just as Willy goes past, hair still wet under his toque. He catches sight of Freddie and just lights up. Freddie smiles at him, stepping forward to kiss Connor lightly.

"Ready to go home?" Connor leans into him. 

"Yeah," Freddie smiles down at him. "Let's go home."


End file.
